


Connection

by Gulo



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Sex, So much angst, Spock Angst, and brief mention of genitals, just casual nudity, the password is t'hy'la, this is strictly TOS btw, you need to know the password to read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gulo/pseuds/Gulo
Summary: Spock angst/hurt/comfort. Takes place across season 1, with allusions to "The Naked Time", "The City on the Edge of Forever", "Shore Leave", and TAS "Yesteryear."





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

> (Real quick, just imagine Kirk has a full-sized bed. The beds in the whole Star Trek franchise are always cot-sized, which seems a bit silly to me! Budget, I guess. I am terrible about adding/editing content after posting, but maybe no one will notice! The ending is slightly different now. Also, I don't own these characters. )

"Come."  
Spock entered Kirk's quarters. For once he was not standing at parade rest. Instead he held in both hands a potted plant. 

"I hope I have not disturbed you, Captain."

"Never." Kirk's eyes glimmered. "What's that you've got there?" He stood up from his computer desk to greet his first officer and friend.

"A gift for you. I cultivated it from sprout. It is a type of Vulcan cactus." 

Kirk made no attempt to curtail his wonder and delight. Reverently, he took the pot to examine it more closely. The little plant was far from intimidating, its spines short and blunt on a bright pink-colored bulb, each spine blanketed in downy peach fuzz. It wasn't alone in the pot either, flanked by other more leafy succulents, one of them sporting a sunny yellow flower. Spock made no other pretense, no explanation because none was needed. 

"I love it," Kirk beamed. "I'll have to take it along with me to the tanning bed, for light."

"I think that would suffice." Now Spock clasped his hands behind him, and rocked once on his heels for effect. 

"Would you come in?" 

"Ah, no. Not now. I have some reading to do. Goodnight, Captain."

"...Goodnight, Mister Spock." Spock sometimes missed it in other people, but he did not miss Kirk's note of disappointment as he turned to leave the room. "It's really nice of you," Kirk added quickly before the door shut, "thank you!" 

***

Months passed.

***

It started innocently enough. Eventually, one time after their shifts when Kirk invited him in, Spock finally obliged him. They ended up doing nothing but playing chess for four hours. Spock remembered having a few conversations, all about subjects which were neither too personal, nor trivial; there was no weather to speak about here, family drama was a distant memory, aches and pains a minor inconvenience at worst. Mostly he just remembered the entirely comfortable silence between them, sitting, staring, and thinking, just being in the here and now of the game. That is, in between sessions of Kirk rambling on about some fully interesting and unique cosmic minutiae. That, Spock could deal with. Quite well. 

Slowly, this became a regular occurrence, a ritual. Spock always felt lonely when he went back to his room afterward. But there was nothing to regret about it. It was a bittersweet feeling. He did not understand it. He just abided in it. 

Later on, Kirk finally asked him a personal question. "Spock, what was your childhood like?"

He felt like a spotlight had been shone on him, even if it was just the gaze of Kirk's eyes. The convenient thing about speaking over chess was that one could take their time coming up with a reply. He meditated on it a while, making not one but two moves of a pawn, then knight, and even claiming a bishop, before offering it. "Unsatisfying. I have always felt restless." He had some reference point for it; he had his parents' love, such as it was, and the loving memory of I-Chaya. And he had the comraderie of the Academy, one of his best life experiences so far, even if he still felt distant from everyone there. He had the genuine appreciation and respect from his colleagues, some of whom were even good company. But sometimes, he did wonder what he was missing. 

"Did you ever have fun?" Kirk asked next, unabashed curiosity in his eyes. "What did you do? You know? Did you play games? Make-believe? Build models? Go out and party?" He was being silly with that last, Spock knew. He let it fall, and did not wait as long to reply. But he did look up from the game to meet Kirk's gaze. 

"I read. I played various games of Vulcan logic, yes." But make-believe? That was an exceedingly lonely game, to play by himself. He decided not to answer that one. "I liked to help with my mother's garden. I liked to draw cities -- city plans, and castles. I learned instruments."

Kirk's face brightened once more after he brought one of his own knights up another level. He did not bother to hide his smile. Always smiles when he looked at him, this captain... silly smiles, wry smiles, warm smiles.... "That's right, music. And you're good. Do you know anything besides the harp?"

Spock nodded. Time seemed to dilate as he considered his next move. "Piano. Pan-flute. I shall have to play the pan-flute for you sometime. Also, check."

"What!" Kirk straightened in his chair. "I'm not going to let you get away with that."

"Then you had better stop distracting yourself." This time Spock smiled, mildly.

Kirk made every attempt to recover, but it was to no avail. Spock beat him fair and square this time, through no fault but his own. 

But Spock felt a little less lonely that night. 

 

***

 

The next game, the very next week, Kirk asked him more pointedly, "So you never had playmates? No friends to hang out with?"

It took him by surprise. But Spock wondered why he did not feel more uncomfortable. If anyone else had asked him this question, he would have to contain his irritation, and shame besides. But Kirk's eyes were irresistable. They were utterly, utterly without deceit. Kirk would not judge him, and for that reason Spock... wanted to share himself. 

"No." Even if it was his only answer. He looked at the game board so long he became blind to it. Enough time passed where he did not make a move that Kirk actually looked concerned, shifted in his seat, and spoke again. 

"What if you...." his voice trailed off as he reconsidered his phrasing. For once the smile faded as he pondered, chin on palm. "Spock. There's a film I've been wanting to watch. Would you watch it, with me?" 

"A film?" Eyebrow. 

"Yes. We can make a night of it, like this. Friends do that sometimes.... You know. Share media. Books are not very social," he noted, almost admonishingly. 

"They can be. For example, if you have read something in common and can discourse about its subject."

Kirk chuckled. "And do you like any fiction?" 

"Hmmm. My mother passed onto me one of her favorite series of Earth fiction. The Sandibar Exiles, by Oslowe. As an adolescent, it was my first and primary view of Earth culture. There were some things about it which perplexed me, and still do to this day. But it did inspire me, particularly in the realm of science and exploration, just as it had inspired her."

Kirk had heard of it, but hadn't read it. He made no mention. "Did you care about the characters?" 

What an odd question. Spock pondered it briefly, but it was not difficult to answer. "Yes, actually. There are times I find I still think about them and their interactions with one another." 

Kirk hid his mouth behind folded hands to consider his final moves. He lost the game again, but didn't make a fuss about it this time, accepted defeat as if he were accepting a handshake.

***

The next evening, Spock turned up as planned. Kirk showed him a preview of the film from a clip on the computer. He thought it was odd, but nothing objectionable, saving the level of violence. But he could sit through it. It seemed to be a story of epic fantasy to him, except that it was not; merely a piece of Earth history so far removed from the current time that it gave the impression as much. An ancient Earth civilization, barbaric but still so well-reknowned, even beloved, that its legacy lived in legend even now. 

They enjoyed a meal before sitting to view together on Kirk's bed. It was the only piece of furniture they could share, but Spock found it was larger and more comfortable than he expected. They could both lay side by side with room between them. Fine. Kirk slid off boots, and motioned for Spock to do the same. Becoming so casual inspired an odd and awkward sensation in him, but he was able to push it aside until Kirk asked, 

"Spock, do you like women?"

Out of all the things Kirk had asked him so far, this one perplexed him the most. Kirk used a remote on the nightstand to turn the screen on the opposite wall on, and Spock watched it illuminate and start up its usual animated landscape montage. He leaned back on a propped pillow and settled in, hands clasped in his lap. He knew what Kirk meant by it, however --

"I do not know."

"Do you like men?"

Spock managed to keep his eyes trained on the screen. The scenes idly cycled. There was a tropical beach with friendly hanging palms. A high-definition animation of a telescope capture that showed the way all the objects in SX-11-883 rotated around one another over the course of 50 Earth years. A closeup of a brightly burning bonfire. Another scene of a misty Earth mountain. His face was impassive, but one thing he could not suppress, much to his chagrin, was a bronze blush to his cheeks.

Kirk neither pressed nor apologized. He began the movie, which they watched mostly in silence, except when Kirk pointed out something historically relevant. This happened a number of times, but it was never a nuisance. It began to happen less often as the film progressed, from savage action and adventure, turning into a story of friendship and affection and finally, love. Comraderie, cooperation, partnership, trust, and even sacrifice between two soldiers, who turned their fight for survival into something much larger, a tiny glimmer of enlightenment in an era otherwise frought with misery and ignorance. 

When the two men kissed and made love, Kirk turned to look at him. He did not even hide it. Hey surveyed Spock's face very carefully. But Spock made no response, kept his eyes strictly trained on the screen, hardly moving except for his breathing, blinking, and the occasional, slightest fidget of his hands in his lap. 

As the film ended and credits rolled, Kirk stretched, then sighed. "Well! That was a bit better than I expected. The reviews for it weren't great. But I liked it. What did you think?" As chipper as always. 

"Jim..." Spock spoke slowly as he began to sit up. "Why did you show this to me?" 

It was unexpected to see Kirk blush for once. But he could see that Spock's question was asked in earnest, not as criticism. Kirk cleared his throat, he switched his voice from Captain mode to Jim mode, his soft and soothing mumble. "Well, I... For the same reason as I would show you any film. I wanted to see your reaction to it." 

Spock considered the question as one would a dissertation. At least, that was the air he gave off. "At first it was rather primitive. All the butchering and torture, seemed rather lurid... if historically accurate. I did not enjoy that. But, it improved. I can see how these stories still resonate with Earthlings. It is about contrast -- finding hope in times of suffering."

That was as impersonal as a review as Kirk ought to have expected. He chuckled and actually went so far as to briefly pet Spock on the shoulder. "I think you get it. I'm glad you liked it, in the end."

"Thank you. It was interesting."

Kirk sniffed. "Next time we should watch something a little lighter. Cartoons, maybe. Have you seen many?"

"Cartoons? No... I don't think so."

Spock had to meditate for a full hour before he was able to fall asleep that night. 

***

The crew had all been innoculated. At the last stop at a starbase, the Enterprise had been decontaminated. For most, the polywater virus was a distant memory, a fever dream which had briefly possessed the ship's officers, but was no longer a concern. Everyone could return to their normal lives, everyone except Spock.

Almost like someone who had taken a strong hallucinogenic drug for the first time, the experience had changed something fundamental about Spock. Being completely unable to control himself and his emotions was a frightening experience, and paradoxically, even moreso than the more tangible threat to his life. That level of unbridled emotion was not something he had felt since he was a child, before he'd been old enough for his father to teach him meditation. But it was all he had to draw on for experience. Having to remember those days was painful, too -- the state of perpetual confusion and gawkiness he felt, the crushing shyness, the unhappy ignorance and dependence on his mother to show him the way of everything. But at least his mother had been there for him. Spock always felt that she had as much to contribute toward his emotional control as did his father.

But he was on his own now. He had a crew of four hundred to command, but in reality, he was alone in the vastness of space. A single adult, just finding his way and his place. And still, as an adult, unable to reconcile the nagging _feelings_ that sprang up in him, occasionally in the past, but now, since that strange day, much more often than he'd like. His discipline was a strong as ever, but it did nothing to erase the freshness of the memories. It did nothing to diminish the equally weird and awkward exchange he had with Jim.

It had been a few weeks since their last chess game. Spock was learning that sometimes, even if he desired company for once, a break from socializing was best. But he was beginning to feel like an animal in a cage. Shore leave was months away. Yet the shifts were quiet, right now, just meandering casually across the galaxy until they contacted the next civilization, or recieved their next assignment. 

He realized he needed to talk to someone. 

There was the ship's counselor. But that wouldn't do. Spock tried to consider it, valiantly. But bare his naked emotions, even in the form of a story, to a complete stranger? Someone who would, despite all their exposure and training, no doubt judge him for his heritage somehow, whether they were well-meaning or not. There was no way. 

Nurse Chapel? ... No. She would be too kind to him. She would take him too seriously, and start to project herself. The idea of some sympathy was nice, but ultimately, it was not what he was looking for.

Not McCoy... Spock really wanted to trust him very badly, but it just wasn't possible at this time. Some other time. Perhaps.

Jim.....

By now when he thought of Jim, his mind was a roil of confusion. Jim showed him sympathy, but he was not overbearing about it. Jim... let him be his own person, without trying to control his responses like McCoy might. Yes, it was true that Jim teased him, but it was the gentlest teasing he'd gotten, compared to being tricked, shunned, beaten up, spat on, and slandered by classmates. But he didn't know where he stood with Jim anymore. After that fevered confrontation, everything became a blur. Their interactions had all been professional, more like the first year they worked together. Jovial, but short. Kirk didn't seem to be reaching out to him as much as he had the past few months. And that was fine... or was it, really?

Perhaps it was time for Spock to make a move. Perhaps, this is what true friends did for one another: speak to each other frankly to resolve a conflict, not just to keep the peace on board, but... because they.... cared.... for one another. 

He waited until it was after his shift, and when he knew Kirk was also off, to head to the captain's quarters. 

"Enter."

"Captain. I hope I am not disturbing you."

"Never," Kirk said as usual. He was pulling a gray t-shirt over his head. "What can I do for you, Mister Spock?"

"I was wondering if you had a moment to talk, in a personal nature." 

"Sure. If you don't mind following me to the gym. It's time for my workout before I retire. We can talk while I lift." 

A quick panic arose, then subsided. The gym was public, anyone could be down there. But the probability was fairly unlikely. He should not make silly excuses. "Very well. I will spot you."

"Great." Kirk patted his shoulder. "Thanks. Let's go." 

The gym was empty. Kirk began his circuit training with gusto, starting with his least favorite, the abdominal exercises. He didn't miss a beat in the conversation. "Ohhhhh, sooo, what's on your mind?"

Spock took a seat on a padded bench, resting with hands steepled before his hunched form. "I have not been the same since the Psi 2000 incident. As you can see, it has not affected my work in any way. But it is difficult to take rest. I cannot meditate as easily. I am not as interested in certain recreations. I am finding myself to be more withdrawn. I do not know what to do. I am not affected by the virus anymore, as is the case with everyone. But it is like it has changed me, permanently." 

"Oh, maybe not permanently," Kirk huffed between crunches, "but bad experiences can... linger a while. It was... very scary. But I wouldn't call it... traumatic. Would you?"

"No..." Spock pondered. He watched Kirk change to abdominal leg lifts. "It was not traumatizing. However, it ... forced me to consider a facet of myself that I thought... I thought I..."

"You are really more human... than you'd like to admit," Kirk couldn't smile easily as he lifted his legs above his head, but his voice was mellow. Kirk was one of the few people who always remembered that Spock was not all vulcan, and indeed, would make a point of it. He was also one of the few people that Spock would always let slide on the subject. 

He sniffed. "Perhaps I am. But I ... I am still confused by what happened. Between us." 

"Us?" Completing the leg lifts, Kirk sat up on the blue vinyl matt to catch his breath. "You mean, in the briefing room?" Next he stood and crossed the room to the squat bench, motioning Spock over to join him in spotting. 

"Yes..." This was difficult. He was glad for the distraction in watching Jim work out. "First, I must apologize for my behavior. I was--"

Kirk laughed aloud to cut him off. "I should let you know, first, Mister Spock, that I barely remember what happened." The sweat began to stand out on his face quite a bit now as he used his legs to lift the heavy weights on his shoulders, which were duly impressive, even if Spock could lift much more. He was red faced as he made his first lift, paused to speak. "So ... any apology you give... is irrelevant. But I suppose... the thought is apprecated. Huff." 

"You don't remember." Spock had to process this new information. He had not expected this at all. What he expected, was for the captain to have as crystal clear a memory of the events as he did. After all, he was seemingly lucid enough to come up with the idea of reversing the engines, and captain the bridge to do it. But the virus had affected all the crew in a different way, unpredictably. He should have allowed for this possibility. But now, he realized he was at a loss. 

Kirk puffed hard as he completed a second squat. "Not so much. I remember we fought... but not over what. So, I guess it doesn't matter. Right? No hard feelings?" A third, grunting squat, then he panted as he let the weights rest on the bench. He took a corner of his shirt to wipe his face, then, glancing all around the gym, decided to throw all caution to the wind and remove the shirt entirely. He tucked a corner of it into a pocket and crossed the gym again to sit at the bench press instead, with Spock following to overlook.

Spock watched the barrel chest of the man rise and fall with each press. He sought to find the right words. He couldn't believe this was happening. For weeks he thought it was a curse that he had inadvertently confessed his shame to Kirk; now, the curse had become the fact that Kirk no longer remembered it. Spock would have to either describe the events, or simply put them behind him. 

Which mattered to him more -- saving face, and letting it be, or settling his confusion? 

"Then it is of no consequence." 

"Okay."

Something deep in him ached quite a lot. It wasn't logical, and it also wasn't fair. He didn't want to feel this way. He didn't want to feel at all. 

He realized he was watching Jim bench without a word. It was, admittedly, a little mesmerizing. It did quiet his mind to watch Jim's body at work, shoulders, biceps and triceps, pectorals, the fuzzy hairs on his forearms that were usually hidden, and the minute change of expressions on his face, too. When he finished the reps, he used the t-shirt as a rag to wipe his face again. Then he looked up at the vulcan curiously.

"Well. Maybe it's not that simple. If I'm the one who wronged you... if I said something to hurt you, I'm sorry."

Somehow that made the ache even worse. Spock shook his head. "You did nothing wrong. I was merely... emotional." He felt so lame for being unable to articulate this, even passingly. But he had to spare Jim the awkwardness, it was not appropriate to burden him with it. Unprofessional. 

"You look like you're emotional now. Not to prod you, Spock, but... I can tell you're more than just lonely, tonight. What's really bugging you?" His gentle voice. 

In the silence that ensued, Jim picked up some free weights and started working on curls. In fact, they spent most of the rest of his workout in silence. But when Jim was ready to shower, he invited Spock along with. "Come rinse off with me."

"... Alright."

Spock never had an easy time in public showers. Not that he was particularly modest. Just so many bad memories. Shamefully illogical, but easy enough to avoid and work around -- he usually waited until such time as the showers were totally empty to take his own. Showering with Jim was a novel idea. 

The locker room quickly filled with a luxuriant amount of steam as Jim showered off under hot water. Spock preferred his on the cooler side. He was beginning to calm down, at least a little. It didn't really matter. What was shame, anyway, but another illogical thing. There was no need to let himself feel that, either. No need.

"After this, want to watch some of those cartoons?" Jim smiled cheekily over at him. 

Eyebrow. "If you would like."

"If _you_ would like." 

"Yes. I should like to continue enjoying your company."

"Good. Because it's been boring these past few days, and I need to talk to someone on my level."

Possibly, Spock had just been imagining things, including a lull between them. Perhaps Kirk had been too busy with paperwork to invite him around. Whatever the reasons, they seemed very far away now. 

As he washed suds away, he managed to hint a little smile, right before they were interrupted by the sound of a reverberating fart that ripped across the whole locker room, followed by a guffawing group of ensigns horsing around about it. 

"See what I mean?" 

Spock smiled full on at the captain and nodded. 

The vulcan donned his trousers to walk back, but Kirk didn't care. He wrapped the towel around his waist and sauntered past the ensigns casually, "Gentlemen," answered by another round of hyena giggles and a chorus of "Captain," and then strolled down the hall barefoot. When they were ensconced in his room, he blithely dropped the towel and the rest of his clothes in a corner, strode naked to the synthesizer, ordered a large glass of water, drained it, and fell face-down on the bed. 

"Ohhh. That was good. Thanks for keeping me company. Good distraction -- I think I worked out harder than usual."

Spock decided he was thirsty as well, but for a smaller glass. He let the synthesizer reclaim the cup, then placed his clothes on the back of a chair more neatly. It felt odd to sit on the bed with the captain naked as a jay beside him, but it seemed like the thing to do, if they were about to take in some more media. But Kirk didn't stir. Spock waited patiently. And waited. But Kirk had fallen asleep. He was starting to softly snore. 

Spock folded his hands in thought. He supposed he should go. Kirk wasn't about to wake up. He wasn't about to wake Kirk up, either. There was no point in staying. But Kirk... was appealing to look at. In sleep, the man's face was totally peaceful. His long lashes lay against his cheek like little feathers. And his body... recently exercised and freshly showered. Thick and round yet soft in all the right places and such a pleasant shade of gold, his skin. 

He caught himself. What was he doing? Letting his thoughts just wander without restraint into lust. It was improper, unprofessional, a violation of his friend's privacy, and _emotional_ besides. But he just couldn't stop it. 

Spock focused his breathing a moment and let his eyes wander the room to get his bearings back. But his gaze was arrested by something in particular: his gift of the cactus. It was sitting right there on Kirk's nightstand, looking vibrant and healthy as ever. It was only a cactus, a resilient desert plant. But it was clear Kirk had taken care of it. This realization calmed him, somewhat. In fact it even... pleased him. 

Then Kirk rolled over. His limbs spread in a sleepy sprawl across the bed, just shy of where Spock sat. He looked away at first in case Kirk awoke, but he was still fast asleep. Once more Spock's eyes roamed over Kirk's body, drinking in the sight. He sat there for what must have been at least an hour, just staring. 

Kirk's penis began to erect. He was otherwise inert. Spock panicked, confused by what he felt. But he was determined to sit with it. This was like any other exercise of the mind, he could and _would_ will control. There was no reason to feel excitement. Even if he felt it nevertheless. Kirk's penis stiffened to half-hardness, throbbed a bit. It too, was mesmerizing. Beautiful...? That was a silly notion. A silly word to use here. Silly. Illogical. 

It was time to get up. Slowly, so as not to shake the bed, he stood, picked up his clothes, and snuck out of the room to return to his quarters. 

Instead of meditating, he paced the room. The very idea of meditating irritated him. It was of no comfort, no use. He had to _do_ something. Something, deep down inside him, felt angry, shamefully angry, just like that very time he confessed his shameful friendship. Exactly like it. An inexplicable frustration. He wanted to punch something, destroy something, hurt someone, hurt himself. Anything to feel anything except what he felt now. But each time his thoughts turned violent, they were interrupted by visions of Kirk, his gentleness, his mindfulness, his understanding, his curiosity about him, and he held back. He realized he was hard, now, too. Spock masturbated until he reached empty aching orgasm, and then he wept, because he knew, he just knew, that no matter what he felt for Kirk, no matter how much he wanted the man in whatever way, he would still always and forever be alone. 

***

They encountered each other in the hallway the next day. 

"Mister Spock."

"Captain."

"I'm sorry for falling asleep on you last night. I'm sure it was--"

"No worries, Captain. Your secret is safe with me." Spock offered a simper. Brilliant. That was just enough playfulness to detract from what he really felt inside. 

... And it still wasn't enough. It was only a mask. But Kirk had seen Spock's real face. He knew what the mask looked like, he knew what his face looked like beneath it. Kirk was fooled for but a nanosecond, but his expression fell again. "Haha. You're a card, Spock. But, really.... Anytime you need to talk. I'm here." 

He let his hand rest on Spock's arm in the way that was becoming familiar, and once more the emotions suddenly roared up in Spock like some wild beast. The vulcan cast his eyes down to try to let it subside. Emptiness. Darkness. Harmony. But mostly, emptiness. Please, emptiness....

Kirk's arms reached out to encircle his middle. Spock's body was stiff as a board. But Kirk was warm, soft, and pleasant. Spock's eyes nervously glanced about -- no one. He relaxed, somewhat. And Kirk held him closer, more securely, nuzzled against his shoulder. Slowly, Spock found his arms were rising up to embrace him in return. The gesture was almost forgotten to him. It had been years since he had been... hugged. By his mother. He remembered. She had always felt good to hug. Comforting. Understanding. Just like this. From Jim...? Confusing. 

And yet... good. Very good. 

The breath left his body in a sigh. He relaxed yet more. His hands on Kirk's back were wonderfully warm. His telepathy was mildly activated, and Kirk seemed to sense it too, a belated surprise at first, but nothing intrusive, just a little tingling. But for Spock, he was able to soak up, imbibe, absolutely immerse himself in the warmth and reassurance that Kirk offered him. At once all his troubles were -- not silenced, not shoved back... but soothed, eased. 

Illogical. Yet, undeniable.

"I've got to relieve Scotty," Kirk mumbled as he pulled away. "Until next time." 

"Take care, Captain." Kirk winked, and walked on. 

All thanks to a simple embrace, that feeling of calm and well-being would linger with Spock for much longer than he ever would have expected. 

 

***

 

Traumatic -- that would be an appropriate word to use, this time.

McCoy's madness, that went without saying, the poor man. 

And in all the exploits his captain got into, Spock never thought he'd seen him fall so hard. And to not only watch his love die horribly, but feel as though he were the cause of it. Of course Spock felt bad for him, too. 

But that was all despite the absolutely insane jealousy he felt about Jim's attraction to her.

Spock had never experienced the sensation before. It was unlike anything he'd ever dealt with. So confusing that he had done everything to throw himself into his work, both the menial Earth tasks he was asked to do, and to create the computer. Blessed distractions to keep him from thinking about the way Jim and Edith looked at each other, the way Jim spoke of her so sweetly. The way they simply connected on a basic level.

Edith was a person that even Spock had grown to like. He must admire her kindness and pacifism, even if the latter was not... correct. Her ultimate fate was such a regret, but logically necessary. Still, he felt sad for her, when he allowed himself. 

But that strange and burning jealousy remained. There was never any way she and Jim would be together. But the fact that that had happened between them, that electricity -- he wanted it so badly, wanted it to be his. His, to hold, between himself and Jim. 

It took a long time for everyone to heal from these events. The strangeness of going back in time for so long, the stress put on the rest of the crew in watching over the portal... all warranted a nice relaxing shore leave. They decided to visit Risa for a week, as the pleasure planet had been renovated, all done up with new attractions and a new decor, an impressively harmonious aesthetic, in addition to the cordiality of its natives, that somehow made even the most alien life forms feel welcome and safe. 

Several days passed without note. The bridge crew were off doing their own thing. He'd heard McCoy was visiting museums. Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov, boozing and dancing, no doubt. Mr. Scott? Quite likely, fallen in love by now. But eventually, he really wondered what Kirk was up to. 

Kirk found him first. He'd looked up Spock's room and invited himself up, replete with floral shirt and shorts. "Captain, what can I do for you?" 

Spock was curt. Kirk hesitated, but only momentarily. "Come build a sand castle with me."

Eyebrow. Spock pursed his lips, and put his book down. "Very well."

They worked on it for most of the afternoon and it turned out fabulously. It was a grand city, much like one of the cities Spock had doodled in his youth. City walls that sprawled and leveled out into surfaces for courtyards and towers, towers upon towers, with ramparts for protection, even little windows cut into them. At one point Kirk was feeling overheated, so he jumped into the ocean for a quick swim, then got right back to work. When they finished, they sat there admiring their work for quite a while as the suns set. 

A pair of Risan women walked over to them with drinks. They sashayed confidently in the sand with bare feet, sarongs whipping in the wind, jewelry jangling. "Hey. We thought you could use some refreshment."

"Why, thank you very much." Kirk reached for the proferred drinks, Risan mai tais and both virgin, out of respect for the vulcan's sobriety. He passed Spock's along, and they toasted and drank. 

The two Risans glanced at each other and smiled. "You did a great job here," the other one noted, nodding to the castle. "You're both very talented." 

"Oh, well I'm glad someone appreciates it before it's all washed away. We've been working on it since noon."

The first laughed and clutched her serving tray before herself. "That's dedication! You must be exhausted. Is there anything else we can do for the two of you?" 

Kirk shook his head. "No, thank you. We'll probably be having dinner soon." He offered a perfunctory smile. The women were visibly crestfallen. The second even seemed to glance longingly at Spock, he belatedly noticed, over his glass. 

"Have a good night then, boys!" Not to be defeated for long, the two women clasped hands and skipped back the way they came. 

"Captain." Spock queried with a puzzled expression. "It is apparent that those two Risans were curious to see if you were ... seeking _jamaharon_." 

"I know."

"May I say, I am surprised you did not accept the offer."

"Oh, _are you?_ " Kirk actually looked offended. He lowered his own glass to stare right at Spock. "I know my reputation precedes me. But _you_ , Spock? Even you, of all people, really think such of me?"

Spock suddenly felt terrible. He'd been honest, just now. But it still felt like the wrong thing to do. He should have kept that to himself, but damn this jealousy. "I am sorry, Jim." But he didn't answer the question. 

Kirk heaved a sigh and finished his drink, then set the glass in the sand, contemplating it. Spock tried his best to read his expression. Sadness and frustration. Spock almost felt like putting his hand on Kirk's shoulder, this time. But he didn't. 

Instead -- another turnabout. "Would you massage me?" 

"... What?" 

Kirk pitched forward to lie down in the half-wet sand on his stomach. "Please. I really ache from doing that all day."

"My skills are not in this area. There are many professionals on the resort. Perhaps you should see--"

"It's just not the same," Jim groaned, "it's different when a friend does it for you. You can be direct with what you want them to do. Plus, you're so strong. Just give it a try? It's really bothering me."

Part of Spock resisted at first, thinking it was a trick. But Kirk's request was serious. Like the time on the bridge, when that yeoman was rubbing him... he was honest, just embarrassed about his mistake.

Spock cleared his throat, and did what he always did when he had no idea what he was doing: ask. "What do I do?"

Kirk chuckled into his arm. "Sit on my butt. Apply hands to back. Press. Go where I tell you."

"Affirmative."

The sensation of wearing swimming trunks, sitting astride Kirk's likewise beshorted rear, was odd. But comfortable enough. He braced himself for skin on skin, in what would be a somewhat stronger telepathic connection than the last. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, go for it." 

Evidently he wasn't, quite. Kirk always forgot about that particular vulcan talent. The tingling was almost like static, but quickly smoothed out into a hum. As Spock's hands lay flat on the broad planes of his back, he felt the tense muscles begin to un-cramp instantly. Spock shifted his weight so he could use gravity to help. He moved as Kirk directed him, which was easy to do, the man's orders as clear and concise as always. He started from the center between his shoulders, his 'wings', and pressed down to ease the tension. He was rewarded with a happy groan, and several pops under his palms. He fanned both hands out to span the golden-tanned planes of Kirk's back, eventually used knuckles as guided to attack certain knots, squeezed along shoulders, and so on. He had no aptitude for this, however, he was good at listening to cues, and proceeding carefully, yet with enough force to satisfy the aches. All the while, what he sensed from Kirk was at first dismay and confusion, but also sincerity... slowly chilled out, to relaxation, comfort... trust. 

When he had finished, Spock sat back, and Kirk rolled over. "Thank you." The setting suns just barely illuminated their faces from one side. Spock nodded. "You're really cute, Spock. You know?" 

Spock blinked. "... Cute....?"

"Yes." The gentle voice. 

"Cute is... not a concept that I have an easy time understanding."

"No? Not at all?" He pillowed his head on one arm. "Hm. That's a funny one. If I do say." Kirk corrected himself out of politeness, but Spock was unoffended. A moment's silence passed before Kirk snapped his fingers. "Did you ever have any ... uh... pets?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did. I had a sehlat for a companion as a child. You might think of a sehlat as a sort of... bear... cat... dog. I was very attached to him."

Kirk brightened. "Aww. Bears are cute. All of those are cute. Attached, were you?" It was a remarkable word for Spock to have used. "Do you see what I mean?"

Spock squinted and tilted his head. "You think of me as... a pet?"

"No, no. I mean... not quite. It's not the same thing, but it's similar." Kirk sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow. "I mean, when you look at a thing, like a sehlat, and feel that attachment. When you look at that animal and think it looks lovable. That's cuteness." 

Spock's head was still tilted. 

"Okay." Kirk ruminated. "I got it. It's... it's more than just for pets. You can feel it for children. For older people, too. People of all ages. Especially when they're close to you -- family, or partners. Or even other people that you see being happy. So basically..." he was getting excited by his ability to explain this, gesturing with his hands, "all these things have something in common. That you care for them -- that you want to... _protect_ them. That you want to see them be happy. That's cuteness."

The lapping of the ocean waves was the only sound as Spock considered this. It was a lot to take in, particularly because it had specific connotations for what Kirk meant with regards to himself. It was a compliment. One of very high import, apparently, despite how casually it had been stated. 

"I am trying to put it in the context of the Vulcan ideal of beauty," Spock began, but Kirk shook his head.

"Look, let me just...." Kirk reached out. Palm up, his hand was open, the expression on his face likewise. Here he was remembering the telepathy, and fully intended to use it for its purpose. 

Spock blinked again. Slowly, ever so slowly, he took Jim's hand. The crackling tingle returned but settled into contented, resonating hum. The warmth of Jim's hand was a blessing. So much radiant warmth, filling him totally and occupying every region and corner of mind and body. He felt Jim's level of concentration focus, focus on him; he was focusing on his face. It was a very abstract feeling, but he thought... he got it. As he looked up again to meet Kirk's eyes, his hearts jumped. This was all he could have ever asked for. What Jim was communicating to him now, this was all he had ever really wanted. He could sit like this forever, easily, _easily_ , for forever, _forever_. He suddenly realized he was crying. Not letting go, Jim sat up, shimmied up beside him, curled his legs around where he sat, and embraced him with his other arm. They sat like that for a long time, long after Spock had stopped weeping, and until night descended, the twinkling stars their only light. By that light, Jim's eyes were a little wet with the pain of his loss, but he had already given himself space to grieve. Right now he was here for Spock, totally.

For the first time Jim touched his face, pet the cropped bangs back, even caressed one of his ears, which made him shiver. Jim rested his forehead against the Vulcan's. 

"You know what else?" Jim said at length. "That cactus you gave me. It's adorable. It's also beautiful, your idea of beautiful. But it's cute, because it's small. It's charming. I'm sure that must be an odd description to you for a thing like a plant, but. It's true."

Spock listened intently. 

"And... it's the fact that you gave it to me. That's cute. You thought about me. You made it _for_ me. Somehow, you knew I'd love it. That makes it even better, the fact that you are ... associated, with it." 

He was beginning to understand, intellectually as well. But at this point, Spock was practically non-verbal, exhausted. No doubt he would spend the next few days in various states of meditation, now that he had cleansed himself of this, and could once again focus. 

Jim only let go of the pallid hand after giving it a tender kiss. "Anyway, I'm belaboring the point now. Let's go and find some dinner." 

"Would you sleep next to me tonight?" 

"Yes. Absolutely. And remember to ask me to return the favor of that massage, sometime."

~<3~


End file.
